


Always there

by Militia



Series: Star Wars Fics [13]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Disassociation, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Blame, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:50:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Militia/pseuds/Militia
Summary: Corin blames himself and bad luck for their last encounter with the imp.
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Star Wars Fics [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867885
Comments: 8
Kudos: 92





	Always there

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).



“Corin?”  
Din entered the dark room slowly, calling out in a quiet voice. He didn’t want to startle Corin if he was asleep.  
It took a second for his eyes to adjust, aided by the filters in his visor. The bed was still perfectly made-up, from when Corin had insisted they tidy it before they left the room that morning. He’d said it was good for the mind to have a tidy room.

There was no sign of him anywhere. With a small amount of panic, Din checked his drawers. Still full of clothes. The small bit of tension that had risen in his shoulders dropped out with a heavy sigh. If he wasn’t here, wasn’t with anyone in the covert, and hadn’t left, then where was he?

With a small frown, mouth twisting down, and building tension between his temples, Din stalked out of the room.   
But which way to go?

He didn’t think Corin had any hiding spots in or around the covert. Maybe he’d gone into town? But he usually told Din if he was, and went with someone for protections and Din’s own peace of mind.

He wandered the halls, a bit aimlessly. Where was he?

He decided to start searching the far off rooms. The ones with no occupants. The covert didn’t have as many people as it once had, so a lot of rooms they had built were left empty, there for future generations instead. Some were still being cleared out or under a touch of construction.  
Corin might be here. Din had already exhausted almost all of his other options. He was well past the stage of worrying now, and was stamping down the urge to panic.

Empty, empty, empty. All the rooms seemed empty! There was nowhere else for him to be though. He wasn’t with Raga or Paz or the twins or even the kid. Din hadn’t seen him since last night; this morning being the first time Corin was up and out before him, leaving a cold spot on the cot next to him.  
He’d taken the kid, but then the kid had quickly turned up for babysitting duty with Paz- scheduled baby-sitting duty of course. Paz hadn’t had any idea where Corin had gone after, only saying he looked stressed and had left before Paz could even open his mouth.

It had been hours since then, and still no one had seen him.  
And now all these krifing rooms were empty!

He paused, in the middle of turning around and stalking back the way he’d come. What had he heard? Or was it something he’d seen? He wasn’t sure, only knowing that something had caught his attention.

Then out of his peripheral, he saw something shift.

Corin.  
With a sigh of relief, Din broke forward toward him, shoving the half-open door wide. Then stopped. Something was wrong. Something, was very, very wrong.

Corin didn’t react. Didn’t flinch, look his way or give any indication he was aware of his presence, even as Din slowly approached him, kneeling in front of him.  
Of course, that wasn’t the first indication sometime was wrong. That honour, went to the tight ball he was curled up in, back against the wall, knees drawn high to his chin, hands and arms clamped tight over his head.  
Din reached a hand forward, but hesitated. He was right in Corin’s sight, but his eyes looked glassy. Unfocused.  
Was he shivering? A small tremor kept shaking its way through his arms. His lips were moving silently, eyes darting in small jolts, side to side, without seeing what was happening in front of him.

He still hadn’t registered Din’s presence.  
Corin’s fingers flexed and clawed into his hair, scratching at his scalp, and tugging viciously at the longer locks.

Now that he was close, Din could se ehe was wrong, Corin was definitely moving. He was rocking back and forward lightly, his spine smacking lightly against the wall behind him.

Din itched with the urge to reach out, to check if he was okay, to break Corin out of this unnatural state. What was happening to him?  
Still, he hesitated, unsure what might happen if he jolted him out of it too abruptly. His mind raced, while simultaneously being too quiet. How did he fix this? What could he do?

He slowly settled back onto his haunches, and rested down in a light kneeling position, placing his hands on his knees. He worried at his lip, face tight with concern as he took stock of the situation.  
He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen something like this before.

He wasn’t sure what to do.

The air around him felt too quiet, broken only by heavy breathing, and the small shuffling of Corin’s skin and clothes.

What could he do? What should he do?  
Should he shake him out of this?  
Something deep in his gut told him it was a bad idea, haunted by the blank stare of Corin’s usually life-filled eyes. Something told him that would become a part of his nightmares.

His fingers rubbed together, stretching and working at the fabric of his pants. What could he do, what could he do?

He decided to speak. Softly, barely mumbling, feeling tense at the fragile state of the atmosphere in the room and scared of what might happen should it shatter, he began to simply talk.  
Stressed, he didn’t realise he was speaking in Mando’a at first, then decided it didn’t matter. Just noise. So he continued. He spoke about the most mundane of things. Abut past fights with Paz, first meetings with Raga and others in the covert, his first meeting with the armorer. He spoke about his bounties, about Greef Karga, about the different guilds he had been a part of. He even spoke of Xi’an, about his history with other bounty hunters. His voice slowly gained in speed and volume, until he was speaking softly, filling the space with noise.  
He faltered a bit when he saw those eyes flicker with, something.

He spoke about ad’ika, feeling hope explode in his chest when those eyes flickered again. Recognition?

He kept going, words coming a bit faster now, speaking about the retrieval of the child, giving him over to the imps. About the armorer forging his beskar armour, and ultimately returning to save the kid. He spoke about the covert coming to help, Paz flying down right in front of him, telling him to leave.

He spoke about landing on an ice planet, and being rescued by a storm trooper named Corin.  
Warmth spread when he felt Corins eyes focus on his own at the sound of his name.

He spoke about coming across that storm trooper later, kneeling before him, and recognised by the kid. With a lowered voice, hoping Corin couldn’t understand him, he spoke about looking into a pair of blue eyes, and never being able to see anyone else for him and his aliit.  
“D-Din?”  
Corin’s voice was a broken whisper, face falling stricken and confused, eyes darting around the room. Did he not know where he was?

“Its me Corin,” slowly, hesitantly, he reached out one hand, keeping a careful eye on Corin’s face, and grasped a hand that had slipped down to curl lightly against Corin’s head.  
“It’s me.”

Corin’s eyes focused back on him, moist and shiny, when a broken sob broke from his mouth. Din gently pulled, and without even an ounce of give, Corin fell forward, gripping onto him tightly as he curled against his chest.  
Wrapping his arms tight around his shoulders, Din began to whisper hushed reassurances to him, slipping between Basic and Mando’a without realising.

Slowly, he felt the sobs and hitched breath subside, Corin’s fingers slowly realising his clothes from their tight, clawed grip. Din still held him tight, one hadn’t running through the hair on his head, hoping he was providing some kind of comfort.

Uncertain if he wanted to know what he was providing comfort for.

Eventually, shivering slightly, Corin calmed to mostly even breaths, simply sitting in Din’s arms, head still tucked under his chin. When he spoke, it was with a broken, hoarse voice that held a strong tremor.  
“I’m sorry.”

Feeling himself frown once more, Din was torn between wanting to continue to hold Corin, and wanting to pull him up to look him in the eyes. He chose the former, deciding Corin’s comfort was more important here.

“For what?”  
He didn’t understand. Did Corin do something to act like this? Was this some kind of, of, training thing from the storm troopers?

Corin pulled back slightly, not quite looking at his visor, before he answered,  
“It was my fault-“ his face crumpled a bit, before a mask slid into place, smoothing out his features, and looking eerily out of place on his usually so expressive face.  
“It was my fault they found us on the island, that you got hurt-“

Din went to argue, cut off as Corin kept going, mask still so firmly in place and sending a deep itch down Din’s spine.

“I made you help the others, and it got you bad luck-“  
“Stop.”

Corin stopped. He went still, back straight. Din really didn’t like this.

“Corin,” he kept his voice gentle, reaching out a hand toward his shoulder, before pausing, it hanging awkwardly in the air.  
“Why would you ever think that was your fault? We both made the decision to help.”

His eyes didn’t even flicker, still focused on the bottom of his helmet.  
“Bad luck always follows me around.”

Fingers flexing in the air, where his hand still stood, Din took a slow, careful breath.  
“You listen to me,” Corin finally glanced up, eyes meeting his own briefly, before dropping again.  
“What happened, was not, your, fault. You hear me. Zev’sonya and I are just as- no, we’re a whole lot more responsible for the mess that went down than anything you might think, alright?”

Corin nodded lightly. His mask was still in place.

He didn’t believe him.

With a sigh, Din reached his hand the rest of the way forward, resting it lightly on the side Corin’s neck. A small line appeared in his brow, and he swayed toward the touch.

Din gripped it firmer, and tugged lightly when Corin leaned his weight further on the hand, bringing it forward to rest their foreheads together.  
He closed his eyes.

“You are not to blame, you understand?” He murmured, fingers flexing slightly against Corin’s neck.

“I don’t want you thinking otherwise. I don’t want you beating yourself up, okay?”

He opened his eyes when he felt the head against him move, staring deep at Corin’s crumpled expression, just as he felt hands come up and grip tightly onto his shoulders. The head against his helmet slipped, dropping down to once more curl under his chin.

Din wrap this arms around the trembling body in front of him, and held him tight, continuing to whisper the same affirmations, over, and over again. He would continue to say them, until Corin believed him. No matter how long it might take.

He would always be here for Corin.


End file.
